I just received your letter today and I hope that you stayed alive to receive my response. You are welcome to write to us if you have the time. I may be the only one to respond, but we will all read your letters when we get the chance. My university shut down so that it could act as a hospital for the wounded soldiers that are healthy enough to come home, but not healthy enough to go to their families yet. I have nothing else to do other than walk around our land and read letters.
I am sorry that it was a bad day, but all the bad days must pass, don't they? I hope that the sun has risen and the smoke has passed. The sun is always a cure for the saddened mind, though, there is not much sun we get in England. I know not of France. Maybe it is the same as England. You have no need to apologize for your rashness, I have heard much worse from Joseph. I heard the worst from Tom. He'd tell us everything, in detail. My mother barely could handle the idea of him being surrounded by all that death. The way you write seems like you are holding back much of what you're feeling, though I do not know you all that well. You write similar to Joseph, he always keeps some things from my parents, but I can tell that he is holding back. He started to write just to me so he could tell me everything. Tom told me you always kept back what you were feeling, maybe it was a way of sparing him of any thought of death. He had always said that one day he would see you show your true feelings, I hope he got to see your true emotions. I am saying this because I am expecting you to hold back in your letters, but you may always write the truth, the full truth. I would be the last to judge.
Yesterday was bad for me, but I don't think I can even begin to imagine what you've been through. My mother wanted me to check on our orchard, some kids always try to climb the trees, damaging some of the branches. It was always Tom's job before, but since he won't be returning to check on them, it's my turn. God, I got to the orchid and just broke into tears, I couldn't stand from the grief, I just sat on my knees against a tree, thinking of the last time I was in the orchard, I was reading Tom's letter. I think it was then that the fact that Tom was never coming home again hit me. It's hit me that the last time I saw him was on the train platform in his clean uniform. I think it's best that I remember him that was. I don't think if he came home, it would be the same as before. If what you say is true, that the soldiers bet on lives, then Tom wouldn't have been the same.
I hope you lost your money on that bet. I'm not one to wish ill on anyone who is a gambling man, but I truly hope that you lost the bet. I hope you are still alive and well. As well as any soldier can be, I assume. They've said in the news that the war seems to be ending, but my father said that I shouldn't get my hopes up. I'm staying neutral, I will not get my hopes up just for them to be crushed again. However, if I could give you a bit of hope, just enough to get home to your family, then I will. Keep holding on, William, it will all be over soon. You'll be on England soil in no time.
I sometimes see Tom in the house. Sometimes he's at the bottom of the stairs. Other times he's laying in his bed, reading a book. It's strange, but my mother refuses to acknowledge his room and my father barely leaves Tom's room during the day. They're both so busy coping with losing their son that it seemed to have slipped their mind that their daughter needs to cope as well. I'll be honest with you, William, I'm not coping well. I can't sleep at night because of the dreams I have about Tom and that German pilot. I know you said he was brave and that he's in an orchard, but I cannot help but think that if a German soldier found him, they would have taken his clothes. Maybe they would have used his body as target practice. Mother always told me to never dwell on the negative, but who here is going to pull me out of my own mind.
I apologize for unleashing my burdens on you. You have enough trouble with fighting for my freedom as I sit at home. I'll hold my tongue from now on. Mother always said I'm very poor at that. I hope your day is better. I hope that you're still alive. These letters are something that has brought me joy in the past few weeks we've begun to write to each other. I hope my letters bring you some joy. Never be worried that you're bothering me with writing. You can be as free as you want in these letters. I have the first pass at reading them since they are mostly addressed to me. I'll take it away from my family if I believe that you truly are being too harsh for my mother's eyes.
My home is not much of a home anymore. Yes, I'm here with my parents, but my brothers are off at war and we have barely any food left in England. Half of the country is starving. My family is fortunate enough to have a garden, but even that it's sparing in its gifts. England is struggling to maintain any kind of food. My home always seems so empty. But yes, I have a walk to my orchard, it was the best place to just take a few steps away from the world and pretend everything is normal. I used to pretend that Joe and Tom are just in the orchard and I'm bringing them an extra bucket, or I'm going to keep them company by reading them stories. Now, I barely can look at it. However, we have more land, someplace I can escape my mother's tears and my father's hoovering. I supposed I've complained enough. We have a lake on our property, not for swimming, but I go there on nice days to read. It's peaceful. Somewhere I go to just be by myself sometimes. I used to go more often, but now that it's just the three of us, I have picked up some more chores. It's quiet here since we are in the countryside. We have no planes that fly over. The town is quaint, but it's nice. We all know each other and we take care of each other. It's a safe haven for those who live in London that was to get away from talks of war. There's not much else that makes my town so special. There are more cows and sheep than people combined I believe, but it's peaceful and it's safe. That's all we can hope for now, isn't it?
Now it's your turn. What did you do before the war? I feel as if you were a scholar, but again, Tom said you were quiet, so maybe something more solitary like a farmer. You were a mystery to Tom and I'd like it if you weren't a mystery to me. That was too bold for someone like me, I apologize but do tell me about yourself. I want to know William, not Lance Corporal Schofield if you'll allow me.
